Freezing and Burning
by Way Worse Than Scottish
Summary: sméagol and smaug, an unlikely duo, but when you think about it, it makes a lot of sense. both have been injured by Bilbo, both have lost their treasures, and both have spent what seems like an eternity alone. but when gollum gets to the lonely mountain before bilbo and the gang, smaug is highly suspicious of this... strange spindly creature.
1. Chapter 1

Weird Ship, I know, but it writes itself and it just makes so much sense.

Chapter One

It all started when Bilbo Baggins interrupted Sméagol's once-a-decade slumber.

Now, we're all aware of the story of the riddles in the dark between Gollum and Bilbo, but once Bilbo had escaped Gollum's grasp, Gollum had never actually given up and stayed in his cave. Gollum had overheard where the motley crew were going, and beat them there, skulking in the shadows and never running into trouble.

Crawling up the Lonely Mountain, after days and days of wearying travel, Gollum hissed to himself maliciously.

"Ehehehe, Bagginses, precious." He whimpered. "Yes, precioussssss, the filthy Bagginses will soon be ours," he stopped in his monologue, snatching a large black beetle from the ground and eating it whole. He sat back on his haunches and sniffed the air. "What isss that, we wonder? We smells water, don't we, precioussssss…"

Quickly scrambling up the mountainside, Gollum fell upon a stream of water. "Squeezes, we must, precious, so we can snatch the Bagginses inside by surprisessss," Gollum grinned with ill-intent. Squeezing through the small entrance into the mountain, Gollum began to swim, completely in his element. The water here was warmer than back in his cave in the Misty Mountains, and the fish seemed almost… furry. Gollum's lungs had become adapted to extended periods of time without oxygen, and he was already a natural at swimming due to the majority of his childhood being spent underwater with his best friend Déagol.

Swimming his way into a grotto, he took a deep breath, nearly choking. The atmosphere was dense, heavy, and oppressing, a thick haze permeated the air. It was strangely warm, and the water looked more like blood. The walls had a deep red tint to them, almost glowing on their own. Towards the end of the red grotto was a Gollum-sized exit, which shone gold and twinkled in the haze.

Edging towards it, Gollum sniffed cautiously. 'What is that smell, precious?" he wondered, whispering oh so quietly. "Bloods, perhaps? Gollum…. No precious, it smells warm and… metals! Metals, precious, yes…"

Creeping through the passage way, he came upon a great slumbering beast. "Dragons, it is," he murmured softly. "Shut up!" he hissed at himself.

The magnificent dragon rumbled, quickly swishing his tail, pushing a gold chest against Gollum's only exit, effectively blocking his escape. The dragon chuckled, a smug look on his face. "What have we here?" he rumbled.

"Us, precious?" Gollum hissed. "We are a cave dweller, jusst like you, Massster Smaug," he said grandly, bowing down.

The dragon roared in delight, charcoal coloured smoke escaping his snout. "Ah! A cave dweller! It's been a long time since I've met one, and an even longer time since I was last called 'Master Smaug'." He said pompously. Gollum edged towards the exit, not breaking eye contact with the lumbering beast. Smaug's eyes narrowed sharply. "But what are you? You know my name, yet I know not of yours. I've eaten Med and dwarves alike…" his great eyes squinted as though recalling a fond memory, and then quickly frowned. "And a few Orcs as well, though they were not appealing… not to mention horses and ponies and birds and sheep and a village or two…" trailed off dreamily.

Gollum nodded along enthusiastically. "Oh yes, precious! Orcs are nasty indeed! Gollum. I like fishies… fishies are scrumptious, Gollum," the frog in his throat grew more pronounced the more excited he became.

The dragon chuckled with the strange spindly little creature. _Very bony and sticky,_ the dragon thought. _Rather unpleasant to eat, for certain. _"What do you go by, young spider?"

Gollum hesitated. What was his name? When was the last time someone said his name? Did he really want to go by 'Gollum', the name he had been teased with? "Why does Master Smaug need to know? Gollum."

The beast once more roared with delight. "Oh I like you, young spider. Well obviously you're not going anywhere, and I enjoy playing with my food, though you don't look too appetizing." Smaug shrugged. "Never mind that, I guess I could if I truly tried. But I'd like some company for now, and while 'young spider' is a perfectly good title, I'm sure your true name becomes you just as well." Gollum fidgeted uneasily at the casual mention of his imminent doom. "And besides, I'd like to know what sort of beast you are, as well as why you've come here. You haven't once fondled one of my treasures, nor have you gazed enviously at my magnificent hoard."

Gollum cleared his throat painfully, as he began his life story. "Ages ago, precious, Déagol called us Sméagol. Déagol gaves us a birthday present, yes. My precious," he wept, sliding to the ground. "My precious was stolen!" he wailed. "By the nasty Bagginses," he spat the name. "Yes, we's must destroy him!"

Smaug sighed impatiently. "Yes get on with it, you spider. I weary of your emotions. We have literally the rest of our lives and I'd much prefer slumber to this. Why should this concern me?" he asked, yawning.

"The Bagginses is coming, dragon! He is coming, yes, and wants to steals everything! The thief, the thief!" he moaned quietly. "My precious will make him invisible and we wants it back!"

The dragon snorted. "You are self-absorbed and oh so… tiny. I could crush you so easily," he said softly, stroking Sméagol's cheek with the smooth side of his talon. "Do not concern yourselves with me, young spider. Even an invisible thief can be burned." The dragon sighed once more, unknowingly blowing a face full of smoke at Sméagol. "Tell me, Sméagol," he pondered, taking his time. "How old are you?"

Clearing his throat again, though less painful this time, Sméagol replied, "Somewhere over 400 years, we thinks."

Roaring, though not maliciously, more so a loud yawn or when you make loud noises just because you can, the dragon spoke again. "Very unusual. I suppose you're an adult by your people's standards, and yet in my eyes you are but a hatchling…" he said pensively.

Sméagol chuckled, sitting down in the gold. "For our peoples, eleventy is a ripe age that not all of us meet. And you, Master Smaug?"

Smaug unfurled his bat-like wings, stretching them out then curling them back in, getting more comfortable. Yawning, he replied, "Oh… older than you for sure… I don't quite know where I'm eleven hundred and forty nine or eleven hundred and fifty… but I'm still in my prime," Smaug said smugly.

"You look quite tired for someone in their prime, Master."

Smaug roared furiously, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the blankie he had gotten out and snuggled with. "Insolent child! You, young spider, ought to be belted! Nay! Killed! Of course I'm in my prime, you simply disturbed my sleep!"

Sméagol giggled, "Sleeps, then, Master."

Eying the younger creature suspiciously, Smaug curled up. "I don't yet trust you, young spider." Plucking Sméagol carefully with his claws, he placed him by his belly, effectively rapping him with his tail. "You'll stay here," he instructed firmly, slowly relaxing and closing his eyes.

Sméagol frowned petulantly, but soon found the thick atmosphere combined with the rhythmic heavy breathing too calming and fell into a deep, restful slumber.

00o0o

I'll update whenever I write the next chapter… in the mean time, I have a few Doctor Who, Harry Potter and Sherlock fanfics that I wrote if ya wanna read…..


	2. in which gollum truly becomes sméagol

Chapter TWO of Smaug and Sméagol but I think the actual title is freezing and burning but I don't really know why it's that oh YEHA it's because of stuff that's gonna happen. Spoilers.

Um so yeah, I saw Les Misérables again… and I was also listening to my playlist: "Death by Feels" and honestly that's the most depressing shit on my IPod… so this chapter, is actually quite… ehhh there's not much plot since it really only further develops Sméagol as a character and shows you what he's feeling…

Without further ado, the next chapter!

0o0o0o

Sméagol woke up, looking around dazedly, realizing he had curled up and fallen asleep with the great and powerful Smaug. Noticing Smaug still held him tightly, and didn't seem to be about to let him go anytime soon, Sméagol relaxed against the dragon, curling in on himself and hugging Smaug's tail for comfort.

He liked it here. It was truly a superlative cave, kept at a balmy temperature due to the magma beneath the rock as well as Smaug's natural… for lack of a better word, hotness. He didn't miss his old cave one bit; it was always so cold and hard and dark there. Resting against the dragon's scales was actually quite comfortable, and, Sméagol realized, he didn't mind being here.

Sméagol had always avoided unnecessary touching, preferring to be alone… but, it turns out, after over 400 years of solitude, even a hermit could grow lonely. And Smaug didn't seem to be too clingy or too aloof, neither needing constant attention nor constant solitude. Sméagol thought to himself. No. He certainly wouldn't protest to staying here indefinitely. They could be alone together, as strange as that sounded.

His eyes roamed around the cave, spotting hiding places and hidden niches in which he could couch in. the cave was really quite large, allowing Smaug to roam and stretch his wings out if need be. The ceiling was domed, and looked like fire-worn clay. There were broken stalagmites and stalactites, obviously broken due to the space requirements of a 200 foot dragon, but otherwise great perches and structures in which to climb upon.

His eyes returned to the slumbering beast currently wrapped around him. Smaug's scales glistened gold in the fiery red light, reflecting the gold coins around them. The dragon's handsome gold mail was very becoming, making the already terrifying-looking beast look even fiercer. Glancing down at his inadequate cloth, Sméagol became aware of how utterly pathetic, downright _plebian_ he looked. He had never cared for his appearance, and it showed. He smelled disgusting, his hair was lank, and he had half as many teeth than when he had started off. He was thin as a rail, looking more dead than alive with his greenish-grey pallor. He resolved to become healthier, to better suit his environment. He needed to _adapt._

Gasping in sudden realization, he smacked his forehead. How had it taken him this long to come upon this epiphany? The _ring._ His so-called _precious._ It was basically killing him. No. Worse than that. It was keeping him at a near-death existence, giving him just enough energy to survive, but also causing him to go insane. _That_ was why he was what he was. Why he was so adaptable. Why he lived far too long and didn't show any signs of age, even now. It all made _sense _now.

Sighing contentedly, his existence all figured out, Sméagol returned to his analysis of Smaug. His gold mail had a chink missing just above his heart. Sméagol made a note to himself to fix that before it became a problem. A constant thin stream of grey smoke was expelling from his long snout. Sméagol watched the tendrils weave and twist, forming complicated patterns as they escaped. The dragon's scales were smaller around his face and claws, growing larger until they hit the largest scale, more of a chest plate really. Smaug's claws were freshly sharpened, carved downed to a wicked point. One slash form those bad boys and you were a goner. Everything about Smaug screamed lethal weapon of mass destruction, and yet Sméagol didn't think of him that way, at least, not anymore.

When Sméagol first saw Smaug, he couldn't help but see himself in the great beast. Alone for so long, a rough exterior, but oddly enough Smaug seemed to have a sense of humour (albeit dark) threatening Sméagol casually while attempting to satisfy his endless curiosity, much like himself. Their first encounter was really quite similar to that of his and Bilbo's. Their casual mentions of their imminent doom followed by an interrogation to satisfy their natural curiosity were practically identical. Strange, he and the dragon had much in common, barring physical appearance of course.

Just then, a low rumbling shook the mountain to its very foundations. Smaug's eyes burst open as he roared, the sound echoing from wall to wall. He seemed to glow with power, his eyes a bright shining gold than his previous dull red. Unfurling his magnificent wings, he flapped them majestically, looking every inch the all mighty dragon.

Chuckling in a deep baritone, Smaug looked down regally at the spindly creature that had escaped his tail's grasp and had perched on a broken stalagmite. "Well, young spider, do I still look tired, old and worn out as you thought before?" Smaug asked smugly, aware of how goddamn epic he looked.

Looking up at the towering dragon, Sméagol replied honestly. "You are invincible. Why do you stay here, then, my…?" Sméagol stopped himself. Surely he didn't need to talk to the ring when he had Smaug to talk to with whom he could actually have a proper conversation. "Smaug." He finished lamely.

Smaug looked perplexed at Sméagol's new speech pattern, furling his wings back in and settling down in his nest of gold. "Hm," he rumbled contemplatively. After an immeasurable period of time, Smaug eloquently replied, "You assume that I am a beast, and, therefore, I crave destruction and chaos, but you couldn't be further from the truth. I'm more neutral than most, young spider. Dragons exist, as they have for millennia, to achieve a balance. We do not singularly find each piece of our hoard, the hoard already exists, which in itself in unfair, representing the inequality in Middle Earth. No one entity should own enough riches to dominate a kingdom. That, young spider, is our job as dragons. By claiming these hoards for our own, we reduce pompous lords and kings to common folk and by doing so we maintain balance in society. I am the last of my kind; this is the largest hoard in Middle Earth." He finished off in a content satisfied voice, with a hint of deep rooted misery and pain.

Sméagol had to admit it was sound thinking. The theology made sense. Picking up a gold coin, Sméagol toyed with it in his hands. "There needs to be a balance. You need both darkness and light to see. Light without darkness is blinding, likewise, darkness without light is an abyss. On a good versus evil way though, too much dark results in chaos and misery, and too much light and there'd be no point. One person can't have all the riches and power without there being poverty. There's always a flip side," Sméagol reflected, flipping the coin over. "Appearances are deceiving, and what seems like a terrifying beast might actually just be the wisest of us all," he finished, looking back up at Smaug.

The dragon smiled sadly. "Of only all could see with the clarity you do, young spider."

O0o0o0o

Geez this fic is so easy to write, I swear the words just flow onto the page like molten lava.


	3. Riddles in the Dark

Smaug and Sméagol

Riddles in the Dark

So I'm back! Whoopee!

0o0o0

Sméagol's stomach grumbled for the first time in ages.

"Master Smaug?" he started.

"Mm? What is it, Sméagol?" the Dragon rumbled quietly.

"I'd like to go to that little grotto. I don't plan on leaving," he said assuredly. "I'm hungry.. There are fishes, Gollum."

Smaug inspected Sméagol suspiciously. Nodding his great head slowly, he meandered to the exit and moved the chest blocking it. "I trust your desire for Bilbo's demise outweighs your desire for fresh air."

Grinning, Sméagol scampered through the hole, but not before asking, "Would Master Smaug like some fishes too?"

Baring his teeth in what could be perceived as a smile, the dragon explained, "I gain most of my energy through the magma and heat below me… I only eat animals to scare villagers and thieves alike."

Nodding, the spindly creature fled the cave, diving into he water. Smaug stretched once again, shaking his scales out and scratching an itch under his chin. He checked all the exits and entrances for foreign smells then basked in his hoard, as dragons are wont to do. Wiggling on his back, he ricked side to side, imbedding himself in the piles and piles of riches, relishing the feel of heated gold. He blew smoke ring through his nose, watching them float up and dissipate. Usually he could do this for months at a time without ever growing weary of it, but oddly enough he was bored.

Roaring loudly, he called, "Spider!"

A distant splash was heard as Sméagol soon crept back into the cave curiously, a half-eaten fish in one hand. "Yes, Master Smaug?" he asked between mouthfuls of raw fish.

"I'm bored."

"What?"

"I'm BORED."

"And?"

"Entertain me."

Swallowing the remnants of the fish, Sméagol threw down the remains into the hole. He climbed upon a broken stalagmite, _his_ broken stalagmite. "How about a game of riddles?"

Smaug blew out a long stream of smoke. "That should be sufficient. If I am the champion, you give me a belly rub."

Smiling, Sméagol said, "But if I win I can leave at whatever point of time I'd like to go and eat fishes."

"Deal, you shall begin."

"It's clear and it's thick

It's hot and it's cold

It's quiet but quick

And thousands of years old."

Smaug paused, but only for a moment. "Air, young spider."

Sméagol bowed. "Correct."

"It slides and stays still

It freezes and burns

Many it shall kill

As it swirls and it churns."

Sméagol whimpered. He hated losing. He scrambled around in a circle before quietly saying, "Three guesses."

"Granted."

The smaller creature looked around frantically for suggestions. Finally, thinking back to where he just was, he asked hesitantly, "Is it water, Master?"

"Water doesn't burn," the great beast said, rolling his eyes and chortling quietly.

"Fire!"

"Fire doesn't freeze, swirl, churn, and stay still or slide."

Sméagol fell back, beaten. "I don't know!" he wailed, becoming very emotional.

Smaug roared in delight. "You shall find out soon. In the mean time," he rolled onto his back and bared his chest. Pointing towards his stomach he said, "You. Belly rub. Now."

"Tell me the answer first."

"Lava."

Sméagol moaned. "Should've known, should've known."

"Indeed," the dragon snorted derisively.

Sighing, Sméagol climbed onto the dragon's stomach, inspecting the gold mail. "You have a chink missing in your armour, Master Smaug," he noted quietly, fingering the hole gently.

Smaug thrust his head back as Sméagol scratched under one of his scales. The smaller creature removed his mail, giving him more access to the beast below him. The dragon closed his eyes in pure bliss and yawned contentedly as Sméagol went to and fro, methodically scratching under each scale and massaging the softer skin underneath.

After some time, each scale was scratched and massaged and the great magnificent beast was lying complacently. Sméagol had curled up into a little ball atop the dragon. Smaug was petting his little spider with the smooth side of his talon and was very much surprised to find scales, much like his, slowly developing upon Sméagol's back.

The reptile smiled gently, raising an eyebrow in happy surprise. "_Sentiment,"_ thought he, _"How utterly bizarre. How wildly fantastic. How absolutely extraordinary."_

His eyes softened as he came upon the realization that this tiny little creature that he could kill so easily had come to actually mean something to him.

Looking up from his resting place, Sméagol looked up shyly. "Master Smaug?"

"Yes, young spider?"

"Well, I was just thinking, after this is all over…"

"Perhaps, Sméagol, perhaps. It's a possibility."

"Just maybe."

"Yes, I quite like to think so."

"You're sure it's not too…"

"Nonsense! I'm absolutely in accord with your thinking."

All of a sudden, they both burst out laughing. The cave shook with the rumbles created from Smaug's laughter.

"Do you even remember what we were talking about?"

Smiling and shaking his head, Smaug said, "Alas! I think not."

Sméagol climbed back onto his stalagmite. "Why are you always so…"

"Archaic? Formal? Polite?"

"Basically."

Smaug rolled onto his stomach languidly. "It's how I was brought up. Why do you occasionally say Gollum?"

"I don't even quite remember anymore."

"Huh, well then. I suppose we had best start learning more about eachother if we are to…"

"I agree."

"Okay then."

"What was your mother's name?"

"Diffindia."


	4. The Ring

Ugh, I am sick and it sucks and I feel blechy.

Here is chapter 4.

0o0000o0o0

Smaug was giving Sméagol a little tour of the place.

"So there's my pile of gold from my first pillage. It contains precisely 497 coins, 72 cups and 3 dinner plates." Smaug's eyes roamed the pile, making sure everything was in the right place. "And over here on our right, we have pile 18 of silver crowns, not to be confused with pile 3 of white gold crowns which could look similar to the untrained eye."

Looking over at Sméagol, the dragon searched his face for any sign of being impressed with the rather magnificent hoard.

Sméagol smiled up at the dragon, trying desperately not to look disinterested or even downright bored. Looking among the piles of treasure was certainly not on Sméagol's list of Fun Things to be Doing. Skulking, spying, swimming, stalking, sulking, those were his ideas of having a great time. That was what he was good at. Definitely not admiring organized piles of riches.

Smaug sensed his companion's disinterest, and searched the catalogue of treasures in his cavernous mind for something that might pique Sméagol's curiosity. His eyes lit up as he remembered the chamber that he rarely visited.

"Follow me," he rumbled, trusting Sméagol would comply. Weaving their way through the mountains of treasures, Sméagol was in awe of the fact that, though Smaug was monstrously large, the dragon never once knocked over a pile which Sméagol desperately tried to avoid doing.

Normally, Sméagol was a fantastic climber. Living in a cave for hundreds of years would do that to a person. He could predict the falling of stalactites and avoid them without breaking a sweat. The piles of shale in his lagoon down deep in the Misty Mountains he had long ago mastered. Gold wasn't as easy to predict. Despite all of his scrambling skills, he had very narrowly avoided the mountains of treasure avalanching on him and potentially buries him completely. (A/N: I am sorry about that sentence structure, I can't verb no)

Smaug noticed his little spider was lagging behind. With a huff, he paused and plucked Sméagol from the ground, plopping him on his back in between his shoulder blades.

"Impatient?" Sméagol smirked.

Smaug snorted and rolled his eyes. "Efficient, more like."

The dragon had led them to one of the numerous side chambers buried within the ancient fortress. Looking around curiously, Sméagol's eyes swept the place from top to bottom, searching for dark corners in which danger could lurk. His eyes lit up as he spotted the small pile of rings to the left of him.

Scampering down the dragon's back, Sméagol went closer to inspect the hill of rings. Glancing up at Smaug for permission, the great dragon's laughter rumbled deep throughout the cavern, vibrating the very floor itself. Taking Smaug's reaction as a go ahead, Sméagol picked up a ring that seemed to glow. As soon as he touched the ring, it heated into a comfortable temperature in the palm of his hand.

It was a deep rich golden hued ring, in the form of a dragon wrapped around itself into a general ring shape. It bore great resemblance to Smaug. It carried many details down to an almost mischievous expression which Smaug himself so often wore. The miniature dragon's eyes were a smoldering crimson, most likely carved from ruby or garnet.

"Noticed my birth ring, have you?" Smaug noted cheekily.

Putting the ring back down regretfully, he felt it pull him closer. "It's very precious," Sméagol praised.

"Mm," the dragon rumbled. "Yes. It is. A birth ring is given to each dragon hatchling to begin their hoard at a young age."

Looking down at it again, covetously, the smaller being asked, "Does it usually glow and warm up when you touch it?"

Smaug quirked an eyebrow and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Mm."

"Yes?"

"A ring is an interesting thing, young spider. It's endless, neither beginning nor end." He mused.

"You're rather pensive." Sméagol tore his eyes away to look up at the mighty beast. "Is it magical?"

Smaug quitted the room, making his way back to the main cavern as Sméagol desperately straggled behind. He still felt the ring calling him.

Lying down, Smaug clasped his hands together and hummed quietly. "All rings are magical. It's a wonder how smiths are able to bend metal seamlessly into a circle."

"I suppose. But what of this ring in particular, hmm?"

Smaug continued humming. Finally, after an immeasurably long period of time, Smaug opened his mouth. Alas, it was only a yawn escaping him. He started blowing smoke rings distractedly out of his nostrils. Looking down, Smaug was startled to see Sméagol sitting by his feet waiting patiently.

"Mm?" the great beast frowned. "What?" he demanded harshly.

"I asked you a question."

"Well?" the dragon demanded imperiously.

"You didn't answer it," the smaller lesser being pointed out.

"So? Must I answer all you questions? I have better things to do," Smaug huffed.

Sméagol was taken aback by the normally kind clever whimsical dragon's sudden curtness. "I'll be off fishing for the afternoon, then."

"Mm?" the dragon muttered, but Sméagol was already gone. "Fetch me my birth ring, young spider." He demanded to the empty cave, his voice echoing around him. He hadn't noticed yet that he was alone.

He was searching his mind for more information about birth rings. He had organized his mind into a sort of, mind mine or maybe mind palace. Not important. Anyway, in his mind palace was the great hall, in which the everyday basic memory items were, words and such.

To the right was the dining hall, which carried information about food and energy levels, whether pig tasted good or bad, if the dragon was hungry or not and so forth.

In the dungeons of his mind palace laid his darkest desires and bitter thoughts of his past and his present.

To the left of his great hall was an almost infinite amount of rooms in which he stored the rest of his thoughts and knowledge. You might think that he stored information about the outside world outside his palace, but beyond his palace was nothing. He had gotten rid of the unnecessary information of which way was west and why the sun travelled the sky.

He was surprised to find, however, that his rooms had become stuffed with little tidbits of information about his little spider. Every conversation they had ever had, had been catalogued, and every facial expression memorized.

_Bizarre_, thought Smaug.

Scrunching up his face in utter concentration, Smaug delved deeper into the depths of his mind palace, back to memories long ago thought forgotten.


	5. Chapter 5

Smaug opened his eyes to find that a day had passed. It had rained. He could smell it in the air. Sméagol was sleeping again; he seemed to be sleeping a lot lately. He twitched his hand up to his chest, clasping an invisible object. No doubt it was his _precious._ He murmured and rolled onto his other side. Frankly, he was an annoying restless sleeper.

Smaug quietly prowled away, not sneaking off... no, of course not. He just didn't want to disturb his spider's sleep. Or so he told himself-not that that wasn't an excuse he wasn't ashamed of either. Not so much ashamed than... uncomfortable. At least on an emotional level. Escaping from the cavern, as well as his concerning thoughts, he crept back to the smaller room with the hoard of rings. Quickly finding his birth ring, Smaug caressed it gently, as a dragon mother would a hatchling.

_Why must you react and glow now? You shouldn't. I'm the last of my kind and you have no right to be choosing a mate for me. You should never have burned after the dragon purge. _

The dragon lay down and regarded his ring intently. It seemed as though the garnet eye was staring into his heart of hearts, knowing things that should be best left alone. Smaug huffed, watching the steam billow out from his nostrils and furl in on itself. Oh, he knew. He knew exactly why the ring had burned in his spider's hand. The ring had access to Smaug's very soul.

_Why can't I just sleep for a millennia? Why must I put forth effort? I don't want to do this; I know I need to, but this is strange beyond compare. I could offer it nonchalantly, and wave away at the enormous bursts of life energy that would pour out. Good Aë*, I could go for a few dwarrows**, right about now._

Passing through the main cavern again, he looked fondly at his little Sméagol. He was much quieter now, curled up into a little ball. With an amused snort, Smaug noticed that Sméagol was lying in a nest of fine mithril; a material seldom found in a dragon hoard that had once been where dwarrows resided. Shaking his flanks, Smaug left the grand cavern, heading for the front entrance.

He hesitated.

No, if some thief were to break in, Sméagol would sense the danger and either attack or hide. Shaking his grand head, he laughed silently at himself for his apparent disregard for his hoard over the wellbeing of his companion.

Unfurling his wings, he rose up into the night sky, a black shadow blocking the stars. It was exhilarating. He spit balls of fire around himself, making a spectacle. He didn't always need to instil fear on his people. And besides, dark days were coming. He could feel it in the air like the building tension before a storm. Why shouldn't he share a spark of happiness before the oncoming storm?

Twirling in the air, he formed a ring of fire and flew through it, lighting the tips of his wings. Furling his wings again, he dove into the water, causing monstrous waves in his wake. Rising once again into the air, he spewed forth a jet stream of warm water which then evaporated. He swooped low over the village. Doing another loopdeloop, he grinned. Well, so much as a dragon can grin. More of a baring of the teeth in an attempted friendly fashion.

It felt nice to be free of social interaction. Not like he was a social butterfly in the first place... more of a reclusive crab that attacked new comers. Anyway, it was liberating. He dove once again into the water. Finally, he returned home with about twenty of the finest fish he could find. It's always nice to have someone provide food for you, Smaug reasoned, even though he knew his instincts were just taking over for his soon-to-be mate.

Arriving back at the front entrance, he noticed Sméagol was there waiting for him, awake and grinning. "Good show, good show, Master," he enthused, clapping his hands erratically.

Bowing low sarcastically, Smaug rose again and raised his eyebrow. "I presume that you, little spider, were not, as appearances go, asleep. I must commendate you on your victorious effort of acting as though you were. "

Crawling onto a nearby rock, Sméagol's eyes lit up in pleasure as he noticed the bounty of fish the dragon had in his claws. Eyeing the prize, the smaller creature reasoned, "It's how Sméagol has gayed-" he coughed, "stayed alive for this long. Constant vigilance. Is Master finding a use for these... mmm... glorious... delicious fishes? I know a great rhyme about fishies. Oh yes, good Sméagol knows."

"Oh, really... well then. Let's hear your so-called _superlative_ rhyme. You know, you remind me quite a bit of the Holbytla*** that my granddragon used to talk to us about. They had curly hair and lived underground in hills by the water. They loved rhyming and singing, and all they seemed to do was eat." He sighed, "well go on with your rhyming."

Sméagol acquiesced.

"Alive without breath;

As cold as death;

Never thirsting, ever drinking;

Clad in mail, ever clinking;

Drowns on dry land,

Thinks an island

Is a mountain;

Thinks a fountain

Is a puff of air.

So sleek, so fair!

What a joy to meet!

We only wish

To catch a fish,

So juicy-sweet!"

Smaug roared with laughter. "Mm, yes, indeed, I do think you must be a descendant of the Holbytla people."

"So what is Master Smaug planning to do with these juicy sweet succulent fishes?"

Smaug shrugged nonchalantly. "What i do is my own affair, Sméagol, and it's best you learn that quickly. However," he noted, "It's much easier to have looser lips in a more welcoming environment. Shall we go in?" he asked pompously.

"Master Smaug has but to say the word and good Sméagol will do as he asks." The lithe creature replied as he hurried to open the front entrance.

Plopping the two dozen or so fish on the ground, Smaug lay down, stretching his wings majestically. Sméagol crouched in front of him, eyeing the fish lustily.

"Alright," the dragon grumbled. "Go ahead. They're for you."

Sméagol screeched with joy as he lept up into the air, grinning like a buffoon. "Thank you, good, nice, _kind_ Master!"

Smaug laughed, and said graciously, "Why, it's my pleasure, my Sméagol. I suppose it is a good a time as any.." Smaug paused. "Sméagol, I am not your master. You may do as you please... though I have... grown.. _fond_ of your company. If you are to stay and wish to stay and much as I would wish you to, you may feel free to call me Smaug, if you wish, that is. I suppose. I don't mind, young Sméagol. In fact, I'd prefer it." He said all of this in a cool courteous tone, not daring to look Sméagol in the eye.

Mid-chomp through one of the fatter fish, Sméagol seemed stunned. "Why, Ma-Smaug. Good Sméagol would be ever so thankful." He smiled even wider.

Frowning for a moment, Smaug noticed something bizarre about his little spider. He seemed to have grown a few new teeth.. and they were sharper and more reptilian than the others. They downright _shone._ And his eyes... which were once quite round and luminous, now seemed to glow but had turned into straight vertical slits... all in all, Sméagol looked quite a bit more _reptilian. _Add in the pale scales, and he could pass for a deformed hatchling.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

*- in the Silmarilion Tolkien describes how Middle Earth came to be, and sometimes in the LOTR books you'll hear the elves cry "Elendil" .. anywho Ea is "the world that is" also known as what the elves call "Arda" aka Middle Earth

**dwarrows- the proper plural of dwarf though the people of middle earth don't talk about the dwarf people enough to have learned thus, therefore they are referred to as dwarves even though that's improper grammar

***Holbytla- hobbits, hobbits could be derived from holbytla, but the hobbit folk we know called themselves hobbits and way back when everyone was aware of their existence they were called holbytla

AN: I'm reading the Silmarilion and just writing a few notes and stuff, so excuse me if i make a few mistakes, but i'm trying to be as accurate as possible.

Thanks for reading!


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